


Cracks in our hearts and heads

by frith_in_thorns



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hilbert's creepy lab, Hurt/Comfort, Lovelace angst, interesting effects of blue dwarf radiation, nebulously set in season 4, this fic does not care about science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 10:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frith_in_thorns/pseuds/frith_in_thorns
Summary: Sorting through Hilbert's lab is more difficult than anticipated, particularly for Lovelace. Then it's outright dangerous, although still preferable to certain necessary conversations.Plus, unilateral decisions on the subject of aliens, homebrew anti-radiation mix, beach vacations, and another Exciting Space Adventure.





	Cracks in our hearts and heads

**Author's Note:**

> Set somewhere nebulous in the first half of season 4. This fic is for veleda_k, who gave me an excellent prompt. Thank you!

Going through Hilbert's lab had been, for a long time, a task on the long list of tasks that could be put off for another day. Except for how then everyone had been forced to spend several hours in there, alongside countless drawers and sample jars and boxes of god-knew-what, most of which was probably incredibly deadly.

After that it seemed like a good idea to move it up the priority list.

"This is so creepy," Minkowski said. "Who needs this many skin samples?"

"Don't ask me," Lovelace replied. "He was an incredibly creepy man." She had opted for inventory of the chemicals, and was not regretting it. 

"We should incinerate this stuff," Minkowski said. "It's… _ugh._ " She shuddered. 

"Agreed." Lovelace stared very hard at the label on a container of acid. "Minkowski — do the samples Hilbert was keeping go back to… my crew?"

There was a long, sad pause. "Do you actually want me to tell you?" Minkowski asked, gently.

No. No, she absolutely did not. "Yes."

"I'll… summarise in the inventory report. When I'm done with this section."

It was cowardly of her to be grateful. To not go and look at the pieces of Hui and Fourier and Fisher and Lambert carefully labelled and stored like trophies. No — without the emotional attachment of trophies. Like lab samples. If Minkowski had said anything else, offered any words of sympathy, then she would have had to. But for once she allowed herself the guilty out of _summarised in the report_ and didn't look up as Minkowski catalogued, filled a container with _lab samples_ to be destroyed.

She marked down the chemicals she could find, recorded their quantities, moved on.

"This cupboard's empty," she said, sometime later. "Hera, what used to be in here?"

"Oh, that isn't a cupboard," Hera said. "It's a personal shelter."

It was the size of a very small wardrobe. Or a very large coffin. "A shelter from his disgusting spiders?"

"From anything, I suppose," Hera said. "It's very heavily shielded."

"That's Hilbert all over," Minkowski said. "The rest of us could fry, but of course he had a private bolt space."

"Well, I guess he didn't in the end," Hera said, contemplatively.

Lovelace let go of the door, and it immediately pulled itself shut. "God, this is depressing," she said. "We should do something fun after this."

"Oh?" Minkowski said. "What do you suggest?"

"I was thinking maybe a beach vacation, but I'm not fussy."

"I know there's a bunch of rock samples somewhere in here. You could grind them down, make some sand."

"Ha ha." Lovelace flipped open a couple of lockers, giving them a cursory glance inside. She was still content to stay away from the medical end of the lab, where Minkowski was still working and probably would be for some time. "These are some seriously inventive tools. I have no idea what most of them do."

"I might have some matches in my data banks," Hera suggested.

"Great." Lovelace pulled one out at random. "This one?"

Hera hummed, perplexed. "Oh. I… actually have no idea. Sorry."

"I'm just going to write the whole set as _tools, creepy, misc._ " Lovelace said. "That should cover it."

Minkowski groaned. "Remind me never to put you in charge of inventorying anything vital."

"They're not going to jump out on their own and murder us in our sleep; that's my vital concern about Hilbert's crap," Lovelace said. 

Minkowski muttered something containing the words, _Pryce & Carter,_ and Lovelace smiled briefly. She would have laughed, if she had been able to forget what Minkowski was so diligently cataloguing. 

Another locker was full of… soap. She let that one go by, perplexed.

"I found the rocks for my beach," she announced, on opening the next one. "Where did they even come from? You didn't ship them from Earth, surely?"

"No, they're various ones we collected from around the Hephaestus." Minkowski drifted closer to have a look, and checked some of the dates meticulously written on. "Oh, I remember that one. That lump smashed through the outer hull one day and lodged in the side of the mess hall. _That_ was fun."

"Oh, I bet."

"Those three were mini asteroids we happened to briefly match orbit with, so we scooped them up. On different occasions, not all at once. And I have _no_ idea where those two fragments came from."

"It's astounding, really, that we've survived so long," Lovelace said. She gave the mess-hall-invading rock a flick with her fingers, so that it spun up into the air.

"Yeah." And Minkowski, after all, had only been in space for half as long as she had.

No, wait. Wrong way around. _She_ had been born in space, only halfway through Minkowski's mission.

(Someday she would get better at this. Or at least the mental corrections would hurt less.)

She wasn't usually this maudlin. It was Hilbert's lab, with all its awful (complicated) memories that was doing it. "I think this is really a multi-day job," she said. "How do you feel about taking a break, having dinner, and coming back tomorrow? We could even bring Eiffel, for distraction."

She paused. "Or to drive us _to_ distraction, I suppose." Still nothing. "Minkowski, am I boring you?"

"No, no…" Minkowski was drifting, her expression halfway into a frown. She lifted her fingertips to her forehead. "I just… are we spinning?"

"We're not spinning," Lovelace said, instantly worried. "Are you okay?"

"Uh…" Minkowski failed to focus on her.

"Hera?" Lovelace demanded, but was met with silence. She pressed her comm button. Static.

Minkowski exhaled and went completely limp, her eyes closed.

"Minkowski!"

The skin on Minkowski's forearm began to blister as Lovelace stared, appalled. _Oh, god_ — her arm that was near the floating rock sample. Which was _shimmering._

Her brain belatedly caught up with her eyes. Lovelace jerked into action, grabbing Minkowski by her shoulder and propelling the two of them backwards. In entirely the wrong direction, she realised a moment later. She had just put them _further_ away from the door.

But she had at least put them near Hilbert's stupid creepy _shielded_ bolt hole. She yanked open its door (it looked even more like a coffin now) and bundled them both inside. Only then did she have time to start breathing again.

A dim light panel turned on automatically as the door shut. Lovelace spent a quarter of a second being relieved before she turned to Minkowski, tapping her slack face. "Minkowski, can you hear me? Renée? Lieutenant?"

"Captain Lovelace, _what's going on?_ " Hera's voice — anxious, frustrated — came out of some hidden speaker to the side of Lovelace's head.

She jumped, smacking her skull against the ceiling. "Ow! Hera, can you hear me?"

"Yes! What's been _happening_? Some sort of interference cut in and I lost all senses in the lab and the surrounding area!"

"But you're talking to me now?" Lovelace asked.

"There's a hard-line into here. I've never had to use it before. Audio only, so please do tell me what's going on! Is the Lieutenant okay?"

"She's unconscious," Lovelace said, grimly. "I think one of Hilbert's pet rocks started to emit a weird radiation. She was feeling dizzy before she passed out, and she's got surface burns to her skin."

"Can you help her?"

"Seriously, what do you think I'm trying to do?" She tried the comm again, but it was still just emitting static. "Does Eiffel know what's going on? I can't get through to him."

"The radiation's blocking the comm channel," Hera said. "I told you, I'm only getting through now on dial-up. Eiffel knows what I know, and he's freaking out."

"Make sure he stays well clear," Lovelace ordered. "Unless — do you think a space suit would block the radiation?"

"I'm still trying to analyse it," Hera said. "I think the odds are… bad, though. Really really bad."

"But we're okay in here?"

"You're inside three centimetres of shielded lead. You're probably good for now."

Minkowski groaned. Lovelace caught her face, tilting it upwards and searching for signs of consciousness. "Hey. Minkowski. Can you hear me?"

Another groan turned grudgingly into a vocalisation. "Urgh."

"Lieutenant?" Hera asked, hopefully.

Lovelace waited a moment for a response, but none arrived. "Come on," she said. "Don't check out." She found and squeezed one of Minkowski's hands; her skin was cold.

Finally, a sluggish, weak reaction, as her fingers tightened in response. A few seconds later it was followed by another moan.

"Captain," Hera said. Her voice was lowered. "She sounds —"

"'M _great_ , Minkowski mumbled, managing to sound annoyed even while barely conscious.

Lovelace rolled her eyes fondly. "How are you feeling?"

There was a long pause while Minkowski gathered her reserves. "Bad," she finally managed.

"Um, Captain?" Hera said. "Or both of you? I mentioned before that Eiffel was freaking out. He still is. Loudly. He wants to come and help."

"No!" Lovelace snapped, and winced as Minkowski's hands flailed protectively towards her head at the sound. "Tell him to stay away, as a _direct order_ , and if he even thinks about disobeying tell him I _will_ put his ass out an airlock."

She studied Minkowski anxiously while Hera hopefully relayed the message. Her colour was _awful_ , and she radiated pain and misery. The blistering had spread right across the upper side of her forearm, and the rest of the skin was red and angry. Her breathing was faintly laboured, and she still hadn't opened her eyes.

"I'd prefer to paraphrase Eiffel's response," Hera said. "It's mostly composed of name-calling."

"But he's staying put?"

"Reluctantly, and for now, yes." Hera made a noise which was an electronic approximation of clearing her throat. "Captain — do you actually have a plan?"

"Obviously we can't stay in here forever," Lovelace said. 

"Eiffel says —"

"Remind him about the airlock." She paused. "We need to get that chunk of radioactive whatever off the station. Easiest solution: I take it to the nearest airlock and toss it out."

Minkowski grabbed weakly for her. "Are… you… insane?" she ground out.

"Not at all," Lovelace said. "Look, whatever crap it's pumping out incapacitated you barely a minute after it started reacting to the starlight, and Hera thinks it'll go right through spacesuits, so getting Eiffel to bring one of those in is a no go. But you know what? _I'm_ totally fine. The radiation must not affect aliens."

"Or you just haven't hit your critical dose yet," Hera pointed out.

"It makes sense that it doesn't, though. You remember when the star first turned blue and it sent Minkowski, Eiffel and Hilbert on paranoia trips? That didn't affect me either."

"I really don't think that's enough data to extrapolate from," Hera said.

"I can't see another choice. It'll be fine."

"Oh yeah," Hera said, very skeptically. "Totally fine."

Lovelace sighed, exasperated. "Drop the attitude. I'm doing this. Understood?"

A long beat. "Yes, Sir."

"Wonderful. I'm guessing the interference will mean I'll lose you again. Tell Eiffel the moment it's safe for him to haul out Minkowski and pump her full of whatever radiation meds you can find between you. I'll throw this rock out of number two airlock, straight back at our Dear Listeners."

"Eiffel thinks this is a terrible idea," Hera said.

"Eiffel's not here. He doesn't get a vote."

"How about my vote?"

"This isn't a democracy," Lovelace said. "As the only alien present, I'm making a unilateral decision on the subject of aliens and alien rocks." She squeezed Minkowski's hand again. "Hold on, okay?" she said, in a low voice.

"Don't," Minkowski croaked, and her fingers tightened around Lovelace's, but Lovelace pulled her hand free. Deep breath. She opened the catch inside the door and sent herself sailing out of the shelter-slash-coffin with a strong push.

The lump of rock was still hovering innocently in front of the window. Lovelace had to look closely to detect the shimmer. "Hera?" she said, just in case, but as predicted the channel was dead.

She reached for the rock, and then flinched away with a pained hiss. Close to, the surface was _searing_. Her fingertips blistered.

So much for her vaunted alien invulnerability.

But it was only an ordinary tissue burn — she could live with that. And there were plenty of heat-proof things in the lab. She found the smaller autoclave and ripped it, hard, out of its shelf clamps. Then she opened the door and held it open in front of her, scooping up the rock and pushing it forward, using the autoclave as the world's cumbersome glove.

The corridors of the Hephaestus seemed eerily empty, knowing that she couldn't get Hera's attention with a word. She dreaded running into an over-confident Eiffel, but thankfully Hera must have been successful in impressing the importance of _staying away_ on him. Manoeuvring was awkward with the autoclave clutched in one arm.

Airlock number two loomed. Finally. Lovelace punted the autoclave and deadly space rock inside, and sealed the door. "Hera —" she began.

_Oh._

Of course there _was_ a manual release for the airlock. Lovelace couldn't help but admit that when one badly wanted access to deep space it made sense to assume that one was also wearing a spacesuit. And that a safety-conscious person would want the release to be _inside_ the airlock with you, so that no one in the corridor could helpfully vent you outside while you were still trying to get a suit seal.

It was just that Lovelace was very much not wearing a spacesuit. And she had no idea what sort of damage the radiation might be doing to the Hephaestus and to Hera every second. And, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself it was just the effects of exertion, she was beginning to develop an undeniable litany of symptoms (dizziness, headache, faint nausea) herself. She had seen how quickly Minkowski had gone down, and remained down even once cut off from exposure.

They were all running very short on time.

She entered the airlock. Sealed it behind her. Pulled her jumpsuit down to her waist and tied the arms tightly together through one of the grab-handles on the wall.

She was an alien, right? More resilient. More regenerative. Just like she'd been telling Hera and Minkowski. It was _lucky_ it was her in this situation and not Minkowski, because Minkowski would do the same damn thing she was about to and that would just be _idiotic_.

She breathed fast, deeply. In out in out in out. Flooding her bloodstream with oxygen.

She pulled the lever.

It was loud, and violent. Decompression sucked air past her at a painful velocity, roaring in her ears. She clung to the grab-bar, thin finger-bones and Goddard Futuristics-issued cloth her only tether to the Hephaestus.

The torrent was slowing when she heard Hera yelling something incoherent, her voice distorted as the sound waves rapidly ran out of medium to carry them. Then everything was utterly silent, her ear drums useless. Silent and so cold her body could barely register it _as_ cold.

She caught a glimpse of Wolf 359 with her naked, biological, fragile eyes and it was so bright that it seared blue across her retinas and it was all she could see.

_blueblueblueblueblue…_

A face. Blurry. She blinked, and her eyelids rasped painfully down and up.

Walls. Station. _Air._

She gasping gulps of oxygen. Sounds. A voice. Voices. She blinked again.

Eiffel's face. She stared at him, waiting for him to make sense.

Things snapped back together with an abrupt jolt. She was inside the Hephaestus. Eiffel and Hera were both shouting at her, their accusatory words engulfing each other.

"Enough!" she tried to snap, but her throat felt like it hadn't been used in a week and she could hardly croak. Still, they both shut up.

For a moment. "I can't believe you're not dead!" Eiffel accused. "You were _in space._ Like that!"

"I know," Lovelace said. Her voice still barely worked.

"That's, like, an insanely stupid idea! It's insane even by my standards!"

"I know."

"Lovelace 2.0 still has a squishy human body! Not one designed for _endless freezing vacuum_!"

"I _know_."

"Eiffel, maybe you should be quiet for a moment," Hera suggested.

"If you're telling me to calm down, there aren't enough chill pills in the world!" Eiffel insisted. "She nearly threw herself out of an airlock!"

"Yes, I'm very well aware, and I would have liked _a little warning_ first, but I think we should let the Captain defrost a bit before the yelling session."

Lovelace groaned. "Got the gist. It's okay."

"Oh, no," Eiffel said. "You don't get to get away with that. You're going to get all of the details later. And the footnotes. And _references_." He did say it more calmly, though.

Floating limply was getting old. Lovelace tried to move, and regretted it immediately. It _hurt_ , like she had ice crystals packed into each joint between her bones. She reached for a handhold on the nearest wall and missed, her arm muscle spasming and cramping.

"You know what?" Hera said, with a sudden suspicious casualness. "I think the two of you might want to make your way towards the med bay. Quite quickly."

Electric fear spiked through Lovelace.

"Is Minkowski okay?" Eiffel demanded, a split second before she could.

Hera made an equivocating noise. "Uh, not really? But she's currently on her way to you and I really don't think she should be moving around, so could you go stop her and make her lie down again, please?"

"Why didn't you stop her?" Lovelace demanded.

"I _tried_ but, excuse me, have you _met_ the lieutenant? When she asked where you were —"

"Why in the name of everything holy did you tell her what Lovelace was up to?"

"I'm sorry, but it was a direct question from my commanding officer —"

"Couldn't you just have said she was fine and left the details of her Exciting Space Adventure for a better time?"

"Like never?" Lovelace interjected.

"Are you both going to float there and bicker all day, or are you going to help?" Hera asked.

Lovelace groaned. She tried to kick off against the wall this time, but her strength was lacking. It was disconcerting to be so helpless.

"C'mere." Eiffel hooked his arm under hers, looped around her back. "Stop trying to mess yourself up even more," he said.

She tensed automatically, but then let herself relax against him, grateful even as she resented the general sensation that her body had been swapped out for one made of wet tissue. "Are you still mad?" she asked.

"Yes." Eiffel sighed. "Okay, no. Not if you'll promise to stop doing your macho thing and take it really easy for the next few days. I need to recover from the heart attack you gave me."

"That seems fair," Lovelace agreed. She wanted a bed. A proper one, with gravity and multiple warm blankets and a hot water bottle. Whatever fumes were propelling her were running out.

Her eyes had closed without her noticing when she heard Eiffel exclaim, with studied casualness, "Commander! Fancy seeing you here!"

"Is she okay?" Minkowski demanded.

"Yup," Lovelace said. She meant to elaborate, but was distracted by how unexpectedly difficult it was to open her eyes again.

Also, Minkowski didn't give her time. "I can't believe you did something that stupid!" she shouted. "Hera said you spaced yourself!"

"Hey, I didn't save your ass for you to yell at me."

"You nearly got yourself killed! How would that have been helpful?"

Eiffel cleared his throat. "This is kind of awkward for me to be in the middle of," he said. "You both being my commanding officers. And you both look —" He paused, clearly having just realised what sort of dangerous waters he was stepping into.

"Like _what_?" Minkowski demanded.

"Like…" Eiffel struggled. "Like…"

Lovelace discovered that Minkowski had her arms crossed and was glaring furiously at both of them. It was an impressive display of indignant fury for someone who looked so grey.

"Oh, you know what?" Eiffel said. "You're both completely ridiculous with this whole face-saving I'm-more-indestructible-than-you thing. Okay? I'm completely freaked out by how close I've come to being in charge of this station. I've had to haul around both of you while you were unconscious in the last _hour_ , and I had to stab the commander with a _really_ big needle that's probably going to give me nightmares. So can you just, you know, take pity on me and stop the stonefacing? Please?"

There was a long moment of silence.

"I agree with Eiffel," Hera said.

Lovelace sighed. "Okay. Less flippancy. Got it." She quirked an eyebrow at Minkowski. "Lieutenant, ready to stand down?"

"No!" Minkowski said. "We're not going to — to just gloss over this! You need to acknowledge how _reckless_ , how _irresponsible_ , how — how —"

"Uh," Eiffel said, "This is kind of what I was talking about?"

Minkowski glowered at him. She pressed her knuckles against her temple. "I — you —"

Lovelace thumped Eiffel, but he was still going. "Commander —"

Minkowski let out an aggravated groan. And then all her accumulated tension bled out of her as she fainted.

"What the _hell_ ," Lovelace said, to no one in particular. "How is she that _stubborn_?" She noticed with detachment that her hands were shaking as she checked Minkowski's pulse.

"That was nothing. You weren't here for the plant monster campaign," Hera said, darkly.

"Besides, I don't think you can really throw stones here," Eiffel said. 

Lovelace sighed. "Eiffel, help me with her."

Eiffel folded his arms. "I have a better idea. How about I help _you_ into the med bay, and then I come back for Minkowski?"

"She'll be okay, right?" Lovelace asked, more to reassure herself. "What did you give her?"

"Well, I read the dosage instructions on Hilbert's homebrew anti-radiation mix, and went for the maximum one." He shuddered. "Like I said, it was a really, really big needle."

Under the circumstances, Lovelace decided it would be unfair to argue with Eiffel, and she just let him help her.

\- - - 

She still didn't sleep much. So it probably wasn't Minkowski having a nightmare which woke her; that could have been going on for any length of time. 

Minkowski was quiet about it. She muttered and whispered unintelligibly and her limbs twitched and jerked and her breathing hitched erratically, but it wasn't enough to disturb anyone.

Lovelace had spent too much time with soldiers, however, to not know what was happening. She unzipped herself from her bedding roll, moved into the med bay by Eiffel and lined with extra insulation, and propelled herself across the room. "Hey," she said, when she was nearly but not quite within arms' reach. "Minkowski."

Minkowski snapped awake with a gasp. "Yes!" she responded instantly, and then paused, focusing slowly in the dim light. "Captain."

"Bad dream?"

"Mmm." She remained rigid.

Lovelace put her hands on her hips. "Soooo… want to talk about it?"

Minkowski sighed and sat up, her legs still held in place by the elastic straps of the proper bed. "I'm guessing _you_ want to talk."

"Yep."

"What if I'd prefer another few hours of unconsciousness first?"

"No luck," Lovelace said. "I put up with you and Eiffel, now it's my turn to be unreasonably dramatic. You were incapacitated and in serious danger, and I couldn't contact Hera. I made a call. Usually you act like you trust my judgement, so why are you so upset?"

"Because it was —" Minkowski began, angrily, but cut herself off. She breathed, swallowed, considered. "Because it was incredibly dangerous, and I don't think you'd have done it before… before we knew what we know about you."

"Ah," Lovelace said. "The whole alien thing."

"Yes, that thing! It doesn't make you invulnerable."

Lovelace raised an eyebrow. "Don't you remember Zhang's logs? Apparently it kind of does."

" _Don't_ ," Minkowski said, vehemently. 

Her intensity genuinely startled Lovelace. "Don't what?"

Minkowski shook her head. "Don't act like I'm joking. You just threw yourself into danger without trying anything else first. It was easier, wasn't it, to put yourself at risk without asking anyone else how they felt?"

"That's not —"

"It is! And we _don't_ know that you'd come back to life again if you died. Zhang's logs are years old, and we can't automatically apply them to our situation. There are too many different variables!"

"Minkowski." Lovelace resisted the urge to grab hold of her, to try to forcibly steady her. "You're freaking out again."

"Someone should be, and I guess it's my turn!" Still, she took a couple of breaths, slowing herself down. "Lovelace, you've been different since you… came back. The same person, but… different."

Lovelace recoiled, and then tried to suppress her physical reaction. "I'm still _me_! I just remembered more about myself, that's all!" She paused. "More about Isabel Lovelace, I mean. I'm more like her than ever. That's _good_."

"You're looking at me like you expect me to immediately agree," Minkowski said. "But I can't, because I never knew her! All I have is some audio recordings, and frankly on those she sounded like a bit of a jerk. And, I mean, so are you, but in a different way. A _you_ way. _You're_ the Isabel Lovelace I know. I don't want you to be someone else."

"So, what, you're angry at me taking risks because you're scared I'll die again and come back wrong?"

Minkowski snorted in frustration. "I'm angry at you taking risks while at the same time talking about yourself like you're not a real person. Just an expendable step on the way to being the Isabel Lovelace who's _dead_."

Lovelace pulled back. "That's not…"

Minkowski hadn't finished. "And what if you do run out of do-overs?"

"Zhang —"

"Stop _arguing_!"

Lovelace swallowed down an immediate response, and _looked_ instead. Minkowski was breathing hard, and her eyes glittered.

"I'm trying too much to out-logic you, aren't I," Lovelace said, slowly.

Minkowski shrugged defensively, and then nodded. "Stop telling me how it doesn't matter that you put yourself in a situation where you nearly died. I don't care how many lives you have. It _does_ matter."

"Better me than —" Lovelace caught herself.

Silence stretched.

"Yeah, okay," Lovelace said. "I'd like to remove that sentence from the record."

"Damn right," Minkowski said, with some satisfaction.

There was a longer period of silence, in which Lovelace managed to stifle a yawn, and Minkowski tried and failed.

"Perhaps you should get some more sleep?" Lovelace suggested. She read a hint of mutiny in Minkowski's expression. "Since you're still recovering from radiation poisoning?"

"Says the person voluntarily exposed to hard vacuum."

Lovelace rolled her eyes. "Perhaps we should _both_ get some more sleep?"

Minkowski yawned again. "Possibly," she allowed. 

Still, she didn't make a move to lie down. Lovelace groaned in semi-exasperation, and broke the stalemate by kicking herself back across the med bay and wriggling into her sleeping bag. "There. Whatever reckless thing you're worried about me doing right now, I'm not doing it. Okay?"

Minkowski made a suspiciously non-committal noise, but finally lay down herself. "Don't go anywhere," she warned.

Lovelace suppressed most of her smile, in case Minkowski was watching. "I'm not going to," she said. To Minkowski, but to herself at least as much. "I'm really not."

She was pretty sure she was making a promise. She was okay with being held to it.


End file.
